


It's Getting Hot in Here - Steve Rogers

by The_Blonde_and_the_Brunette



Series: Marvel Imagines [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Based on Imagine, F/M, Steve / Reader, Steve is naked and glorious, mentions of Cross Bones, not really smutty, very suggestive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 14:47:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9186905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Blonde_and_the_Brunette/pseuds/The_Blonde_and_the_Brunette
Summary: Imagine Steve having to sleep at your place but it’s in the middle of summer and so hot, that it’s simply impossible to sleep with clothes on.





	

**Author's Note:**

> With love, the Brunette

It was like any other day, except it had been unbelievably freaking hot. The sun had been shining like a heat-ray bent on making the Earth a pile of cinders. But now evening was setting, and it was still, annoyingly, really _really_ hot. _Damned air unit, wanting to rebel_. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. _I’m not expecting anyone_. Curious, you went to the door, fanning yourself while walking. No one ever comes to see you. Well, almost no one. And low and behold. It was none other than Steve Rogers, looking more disheveled than ever with what looked like cement dust covering his shoulders and carrying a backpack.

“Hiya Steve. What happened to you? You look like you went ten rounds with Cross Bones,” you say cheerily, mentally noting there was almost no difference between the inside and outside temperatures.

Steve, looking even more put out, answered, “Cross Bones. He found my place and came spoiling for a fight. My apartment is wrecked,” Steve looked really embarrassed. “Can I stay with you for a few days?”

Nodding, you waved the super-soldier into your home, grimacing. “Just put your stuff in the spare room. I’m sorry if the house isn’t cool enough for you,” you said. “My air unit is on the fritz. My repair guy can’t get here until tomorrow. So until then, open windows and the ceiling fans are our best friends.” Closing the door, you glance down at your attire and wince. You were wearing the loosest and shortest sleep shorts you had and an old camisole. You hadn’t been expecting company and it felt like Vulcan in your home.

“Why don’t you get cleaned up? I was just about to order Chinese since there’s no way in hell I’m using my oven tonight.”

“That sounds great,” he said smiling. You couldn’t help but notice that he was trying his best to keep his eyes on your face, but failing ever so slightly. _Ah-ha_. You felt your face turn red.

Once Steve was in the bathroom, you ran to your bedroom, looking for your knee-length, silk robe. There was a little old lady’s voice in your head telling you to be decent, especially in front of Captain Steve Rogers, World War Two hero and Avenger. But it was so hot; you didn’t really want to wear much of anything. _Now that’s a thought_.

An hour later, the two of you are sitting on your couch, eating Chinese and watching a movie on HBO. The evening had been going along smoothly. The food was good, the company great, and the conversation was easy. The only bother was the ever present feeling of heat. You were sweating, Steve was sweating, you were pretty sure your goldfish were sweating. Actually the little bastards were probably the coolest things in the house. But it was bearable. That was until the movie took a decidedly sensual turn.

***Oh, oh! Harder, oh please harder.***

_Oh no_. The color drained from your face, only to rush back up, turning your face bright as a tomato. How could this have happened? This was supposed to be an action film! Not a porno! You hadn’t seen it yet and there was an actor that you absolutely loved in it. He was a handsome leading man that always saved the day. With his gorgeous smile, sandy colored hair, and an absolute perfect body with narrow hips and wide shoulders…You looked at the screen then gave Steve a side-long look. It dawned on you that he reminded you of Steve. That’s all you could see now, Steve taking the place of what’s-his-name on screen.

_Being an incredibly dedicated lover, concentrating on his lover’s needs_.

***Don’t stop…***

_Pounding you into the mattress like the apocalypse was happening right outside_.

***Harsh pants and desperate gasps***

_Sounding like absolute sin on a platter_.

You dare not look at Steve; the tension in the room was so thick you could hear it. Never before had you felt such sexual tension, not even between other people and you knew Tony Stark, so this was quite an accomplishment. You instead focused on how to push food around with chopsticks.

Finally the scene was over; the lovers lay sweaty in each other’s arms, white sheets barely doing anything to cover their nakedness. You still couldn’t look at Steve. The rest of the movie went by in a blur; you couldn’t even tell what the plot was anymore. All you could think of was sex with Steve Rogers.

Finally the movie was over and the credits began to roll; still neither of you made a move. It couldn’t go on like this. “I’m going to bed,” you squeak while getting up and turning the TV off.

“Yep, me too,” Steve rushed, jumping up and all but running to the spare bedroom. _I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again_.

***Later that night***

You wake with a jolt. The night air was hot and humid and the dewy wetness between your thighs was not helping. That was the most realistic sex dream you had ever had, you swore that you could still feel Steve between your thighs. Deciding that you were not getting back to sleep without some coolness, you get up and head for the kitchen. A cold drink of water should help. Or a cold shower.

There’s light ahead coming from your kitchen. _What the hey?_ You round the corner and see Steve there in front of the refrigerator, the fridge light highlighting his form. He turns his head, water bottle falling from his lips. Your mind is still foggy with sleep. That is until you realize that he isn’t wearing anything. Not a shirt, boxers, or even socks. There was not a stitch on that perfect body. Fully awake and with wide eyes, you take in his sculpted form: perfect planes of muscle with defining lines. You can see his muscles shift and twitch as he breathes. You can just imagine dragging your nails down his back, feeling the muscles shift under your hands as he thrusts. And God bless that ass; seriously it was the best ass you had ever seen. Period. And now it was in its full, naked glory. Now if he would only turn around…

Finally you look up at his face and see that he’s staring wide eyed at you, surprised at having been caught raiding your fridge. Slowly, he drops his gaze from your face and his eyes move over your frame, his eyes widening as they go. Your befuddled brain tries to work out his reaction. Then it dawns on you: it probably has something to do with the fact that you were not wearing your shorts and are standing there in your panties. _I must’ve kicked my shorts off in my sleep! Blasted heat_. Heat rushes through your body, pulling towards your stomach and burning there. You breathe rapidly, chest falling and rising quickly.

You can’t move; you’re frozen in his gaze, too scared to move. You really don’t want to. If he was appreciating the view, who were you to take it away from him? Maybe he wanted you too? Steve shakes his head, and looks back to your face. “I was, umm…I was thirsty,” he finishes lamely gesturing with his hand holding the water bottle.

“So was I.” Neither of you move. _Maybe this is just one sided_. You quickly move to the cabinets and pull a glass out and fill it with water from the faucet. “Well, g‘night, Steve,” you say over your shoulder leaving the kitchen. He was still standing in front of the open fridge. You gulp your water down, finishing it before you get to your room. Shutting the door, you place the glass on the bedside table before flopping back on to the bed with a frustrated groan.

You lay there fuming at your idiotic thoughts; there was no way Steve wanted you like that. In the humid stillness of the night you hear a faint sound. Straining your ears, you will yourself to hear it again, trying to figure it out. Hearing the sound again, you grin. In was a moan, a long drawn out moan. Picking up the visual of what Steve was doing in your mind’s eye, you let your hand trail down your stomach only to disappear beneath your panties. Yep, it was definitely fucking hot in your house tonight.


End file.
